It is the living who cannot live without the dead, who wish them back, who need their presences, their hands, as Orpheus held her hand, Eurydice’s, to lead her back to earth out of the gulf of Hades, as I need yours It is not so much the dead who need us now (as we think they do) & that reconciliation we long for, that knowledge of each other to the uttermost, which could assuage us, they are one step beyond it & suffer us to long for them. If they could return, it would be out of patience with us merely: their need to console us. For somehow an indifference possesses them, for all their tenderness & they see beyond us, even if what they see seems to us nothing (Source: poetryfoundation.org) 3 notes:
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